SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 119: Drift (7)

The glyph ring around Lucen flared brighter. Pale blue lines rippled from his boots outward, tracing curves and nodes across the floor like something ancient trying to draw itself back together.

His system twitched. Pinged. Warning after warning blinking in his periphery.

[Interface Disruption: Partial Lockout]

[Spell Designer: Offline]

[Custom Traces: Limited Access Enabled]

Lucen didn’t blink.

’No full archive. But I’ve still got basic logic access. Good enough.’

Elaren raised a hand from the ridge above, voice steady. "Step back. Let the pattern form. You’ll only suffer more if you resist it."

Lucen looked up.

Then made a face.

"Man, do you hear yourself talk?"

Elaren’s brows pulled in. "Excuse me?"

"You sound like a failed audiobook narrator."

Lucen bent slightly, ran two fingers across the edge of the glowing glyphwork.

It reacted.

Not by flaring or lashing out, just flickering, like a thread caught on something.

Varik didn’t move. He just watched.

Lucen whispered, "Alright. Let’s break your geometry."

He sketched one curve over the main ring, subtle. His hand flicked twice, low. Not casting a spell. Just writing.

Three intersecting loops. A line break across the third. Incomplete on purpose.

His system pulsed:

[Custom Sigil: Override Thread Accepted]

[Reversal Anchor: Linked]

Elaren noticed the shift. "What are you doing?"

Lucen stood up.

"I don’t like puzzles I didn’t make."

The glyph circle flared once, white-blue—

Then flipped.

Lines reversed. Energy didn’t vanish, it spun, reshaping backward.

The entire floor ripple-inverted. Light pulsed up, not from the ring, but around the edges of the platform where the elves stood.

Elaren spun. "Stop—!"

Too late.

The glyphs that had been meant to anchor Lucen and Varik now formed under their feet instead.

One of the elven scouts tried to leap free.

Didn’t make it.

Mana bands snapped shut like teeth.

Lucen exhaled. "Weird. It’s almost like I didn’t step on it by accident."

Elaren snarled, "You manipulated a high-tier drift spell, do you have any idea what that means?"

"Yeah," Lucen said, flexing his fingers. "It means you didn’t."

Varik finally stepped forward. Not rushed. Not smug.

Just looked up at the trapped elves.

"Told you he was more dangerous than he looked."

The female elf snarled something sharp and rapid in a language Lucen didn’t know, but the way she stared at him?

That needed no translation.

Lucen tilted his head.

Then called up toward Elaren.

"You wanted me to open the core, right?"

Elaren didn’t answer.

Lucen took one step deeper into the platform.

"Good news," he said. "I’m doing it my way."

The glyphs pulsed again.

And the door beneath his feet began to open.

—

The glyph lock sealed tight.

Mana bands curled up the ankles of the elves, latching like magnetic vines, tight, high-pressure loops drawn from Lucen’s override trace. There was no slipping out. No clever flicker-teleports.

Just five elves frozen on their own platform, stuck mid-step, spells half-formed.

Elaren stared down at Lucen.

"You don’t understand what you’ve just done."

Lucen wiped a bit of frost off his sleeve.

"You mean besides make your Tuesday worse?"

"Once the core opens, it won’t stop. You think you’re in control, but you’ve just handed it a reason to expand."

Lucen glanced over at Varik. "He’s being dramatic, right?"

Varik didn’t answer.

Not with words.

He moved.

The first elf, the one closest to Elaren, died instantly.

There wasn’t a spell. No chant. No weapon flourish.

Just a blink.

Then a wet crunch as a body folded backward, spine snapped in three places, and blood painted the runes behind him like punctuation.

The second barely turned her head before Varik’s hand crushed her throat.

No flash. No spell ring.

Just a quiet snap. Then silence.

Lucen didn’t flinch.

The third tried to run. Or maybe cast. He didn’t get the chance.

Varik slid past him like water, then punched straight through his side.

Ribs cracked outward. Air left the man’s lungs with a squeaky, collapsing wheeze.

He dropped.

Lucen turned back to Elaren, who hadn’t moved.

The fourth elf, shaking now, reached for something at her belt, a concealed blade, short and curved.

Varik caught her wrist.

Twisted once.

Then caved her chest in with an elbow.

The sound was ugly. Sharp. Wet.

She dropped too.

Lucen sipped in a slow breath, eyes watching, not with horror, but with interest.

’So that’s what it looks like when he’s not teaching.’

Four bodies lay still. All under ten seconds.

The wind was still cold, but now it carried blood in the air, faint iron over frost. It settled into the snow and painted the pale light red.

Only Elaren remained.

Still upright.

Still trapped.

Lucen looked up.

"You wanna tell me again how this was gonna go?"

Elaren didn’t speak. His jaw was tight. Hands clenched at his sides.

Varik didn’t step closer.

He just turned to Lucen.

"Go."

Lucen raised an eyebrow. "You’re not coming?"

"I’ll follow."

"You gonna kill him too?"

Varik didn’t look back.

"That depends on how many more bad ideas he’s got."

Lucen nodded once.

Then turned.

The glyph ring pulsed beneath his boots.

And the floor started to descend.

—

The platform moved like it was sinking through oil.

Slow. Smooth. Silent.

Lucen stood in the center, arms loose at his sides, coat tugged slightly by the pressure shift. The air thickened the deeper he went.

Not colder, just denser. Like magic had a weight and it was stacking on his chest one layer at a time.

His system pinged again. Less panicked this time. Just tired.

[Depth Level: 3]

[Core Radius Entered – Logic Zone]

[Warning: Structure Unstable / Interpretation Variable]

’Interpretation variable,’ Lucen thought. ’That’s system-speak for "good luck figuring out what’s real."’

He rolled his shoulder, took one step forward.

The floor wasn’t floor anymore.

Stone, yes. But cracked open like a hollowed tooth. Pale glyphwork crawled up the walls, twisting around itself, pulsing like it was trying to remember what it used to be.

He muttered, "This better not be one of those metaphorical tests where I have to relive trauma or face some inner demon. I’m not in the mood."

No answer.

Just a slow hum building behind the walls.

Lucen took another step.

The moment his boot landed, the air folded in on itself.

Like sound vacuumed out of the room.

And then—

A voice.

Not loud.

Not deep.

Not creepy.

Just... average.

"Hello."

Lucen blinked.

"...Okay. That’s worse."